Please read
by CheekyKiar123
Summary: I'm sorry. I'm not good with summaries :( R& R Plz
1. Chapter 1

Thanks a lot for doing this I rally aprreciate it.

This is may first fanfic EVA so I'm rally ecited

I hope you enjoy this amzing master piece

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Chapter One

.

By Me

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' _Kaijo High School is pretentious_.'

Kasamatsu Mitsuru stood at the gates of the institute, her arms crossed and her brow knitted into a frown.

A layer of trimmed grass, much too immaculate for a high school, coated the fields as freshly-painted, white walls stabbed the sun back into the eyes of any unfortunate passerby. The asphalt that led through into the main driveway soaked the area with an uncomfortable heat that left Mitsuru drenched in sweat under her thick school uniform.

It was all a mangled attempt at ostentation.

Despite its impeccable exterior, a sole blemish on the institute's otherwise perfect complexion was one, lonely building in the distance, partially hidden by the surrounding sports facilities. To her knowledge, the scaffolding attached to said building had been there long before even her brother's freshman year and was the only thing keeping it from falling down.

' _This must be the music department,'_ Mitsuru raised her eyebrows, noting the large, familiar cracks that ran along the walls. She remembered how Yukio had constantly complained about having to teach in one of the science labs for his geeky guitar lessons. Apparently, the whole block hadn't been deemed 'earthquake safe' for five years.

The teenager shifted her eyes to the swarm of students and parents milling about in the main quad as her fingers drummed a low beat onto her elbow. Her tanned arms were still crossed while her gaze ghosted over the sea of grey school uniforms in front of her. One would think a boy in a neon-orange vest wouldn't be too hard to spot.

Kasamatsu Yukio, her esteemed older brother, had left the house in a great rush earlier that morning; apparently due to compulsory disciplinary committee work which required his early presence on the _first day of school_. Unfortunately for the senior, in his rush to get to school at a godawful time, he had left his Japanese history folder on his bed. Not that he actually needed it on the first day, but if you searched up the word "overachiever" in the dictionary, you would find Yukio's priggish face plastered right next to it.

So there was his loving sister, who had sacrificed herself to bring her darling brother's folder to him- although said _darling brother_ had not yet appeared. This was despite him stating the _exact_ time they would meet, which, to no surprise, caused irritation to trickle into his poor, loving sister's system.

"Mitsuru!"

' _Speak of the devil and he shall appear.'_

The teen swivelled to face her brother as he marched up to her from the mass of students, his face contorting into an annoyed scowl.

Mitsuru bit back a laugh as she gained a full view of Yukio's uniform. His neon-orange vest with 'DISCIPLINARY COMMITTEE' blaring on the front screamed 'tacky'. But who knows? Perhaps that was the theme it was going for, because if so, its mission was an overwhelming success.

To be fair, Mitsuru knew she should offer her brother some commiseration for his uniform. Though, while she held onto that fairness, it was truly his own fault for joining the _disciplinary committee._ Of all committees he could've joined, Yukio had to join the one group that dealt with more problems inside than out. Honestly, with all the fighting and bitching that went on with its members, the eye-searing vests were the least of anybody's problem. Plus, being in the tattletale committee didn't earn any sympathy points from her.

Yukio broke clear of the large crowd, causing a wide smile to dimple Mitsuru's cheeks. His whole appearance was neat and well-kept, giving him a handsome glow. Mitsuru snickered under her breath; leave it up to her brother to look good for the sex he couldn't even talk to.

Her wrinkled grin widened as Yukio came to a stop in front of her.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up. You're only," she looked down at her watch, "five minutes late."

"Don't be a smartass, Mitsuru," her brother snapped as his already annoyed look sharpened into a glare. "Remember, you're not my sister here. You're just a kohai who needs to treat her senpais with the respect they deserve." He leant down until his face hovered right in front of hers. "Honestly, what _is_ with you first years and your lack of respect, huh? Back in my freshman days, I had to kiss my seniors' asses."

Mitsuru gave a low whistle, "It sounds like _Kasamatsu-senpai_ is projecting his troubles onto his poor sister." With a sardonic smirk, she jabbed his shoulder. "So, why are you late anyway? Applying to be a bus driver, are we?"

Yukio scoffed in response.

"I was caught up with some idiots from _your_ year," he accused as if it had been Mitsuru herself who had held him up. "One of them decided it would be a great idea to try and climb the scaffolding on the music department. The dumbass could've broken his neck." He shook his head. "Jeez, it's only the first day back and I already know that your year will be a bunch of annoying, little shits."

"Language, Yukio," she reprimanded. "No one wants to date a guy with a dirty mouth."

The senior turned pink and coughed. "W-well, no one wants to date a girl with hairy legs, but here you are," he retorted lamely.

She blinked owlishly, "But I'm proud of my hairy legs."

"You are the most…" Mitsuru's lips twitched at her brother's floundering. He struggled to search for the right word, eventually giving up with a defeated sigh. "You know what? Never mind. Tell me you _at least_ brought the thing I asked you to bring."

The girl arched an eyebrow, "You mean the crack?" The girl looked to the sky and brought her hand to her chin, contemplating the question. Her face was deliberately blank as she shook her head. "No, sorry. I left it at home today."

"Dammit, Mitsuru!" Yukio blustered, exasperation lacing his voice. "I meant my Japanese history folder! Didn't Mamá tell you to get it?"

"Calm down, I was only joking. I've got it right here." The teenager rolled her bag off her shoulder and reached inside to grab the folder. She chucked it over to Yukio, who caught it with an unimpressed glower. "Now you can learn about what-"

"Thank you, _sister_ ," he interrupted before she could say anything else, a pained smile straining his face as he tucked the folder under his arm.

"No problem, _brother_ ," she mimicked, chucking her bag onto her back. "I'm afraid that this is where we part. I have places to be, things to do, and people to avoid." Mitsuru tapped her watch. "It's a time-consuming schedule I keep, and I must start early if I want to maintain it."

"You are a wonderful person, Mitsuru," Yukio drawled, rolling his eyes. "Truly a delight to be around."

"Why thank you. I do try," she flashed him a bright, toothy grin then turned on her heel towards the clump of students.

"Wait!" her brother shouted after her. "Don't forget to tell your teachers about-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," she shouted as she waved him off. "Goodbye Yukio! Hope you have a _stellar_ day!"

…

"Kendo club! Come join the kendo club!"

"You love books? You love lots of books? Then we have the place for you!"

"Please join us! I need to feed my family!"

Mitsuru had honestly forgotten how busy the first day of school was.

" _Middle-school and high school are completely different,"_ the ghosts of her previous school's teachers screamed in her head. Though that statement was true in some respects, as Mitsuru walked through the quad, she could spot the correlations in an instant

Some things never change.

Arranged in a way similar to airport counters were Kaijo's rickety, wooden tables. Voices carried across the courtyard and advertisements mixed together until the girl couldn't hear even one, coherent sentence.

Having the first few days of school assigned as 'the club days' was the unofficial norm for Japanese schools, it seemed. There, the second and third years from each club would advertise and try to convince students, new or old, to join.

'Club days' also meant that walking through the densely packed crowd was a complete bitch.

It was obvious even to a blind person which clubs were the most popular. Though the school had a 'good' academic system, no one actually went to the school for its _academic prowess_. If it had any.

Sports dominated Kaijo High; that was a fact that _everyone_ who attended the school was aware of. Its nationally acclaimed reputation attracted a great number of students; most of which were athletes - in one way or another - from cities and prefectures far from Kaijo. Mitsuru had even heard of someone coming from as far out as Kagoshima, a city located over half the country away.

And here Mitsuru had complained about walking to _Tokyo_ for her middle school.

Someone's fat foot stomped on her toes and jolted her out of her thoughts. Grimacing, she turned to shoot a glare at the person, who, unfortunately, was already swallowed up by the crowd. With a growl of irritation, the teen straightened to her full height in an attempt to peer over the sea of people.

Oh, how she missed the middle school days where she was taller than everyone else.

Mitsuru, in her first year of middle school, had grown to a great height of one hundred and seventy centimetres, thus she had towered over all her year group, including the boys; a fact she held over them with great enthusiasm. Now, still standing at the same height of one hundred and seventy centimetres, she felt like a midget surrounded by giants. A bunch of smelly giants who someone should've pushed into a shower long ago.

' _Seriously_ ,' Mitsuru thought, ' _I'm only two centimetres shorter than the average height for men in Japan. Where are all the short guys at this school_?'

"Rugby club! Anyone for the rugby club, come over here!"

Mitsuru sharply twisted her head, steel-blue eyes carding through the crowd as she tried to pinpoint the location of the voice. Eventually, the girl's gaze landed on a long table near the outskirts of the quad. As she approached, a large mass of boys filled up her vision. Their broad shoulders took up any available space to peer over - even when Mitsuru bounced onto her tippy-toes.

"Girls' rugby, over here!"

The tanned teen strolled to the other side of the table, which had considerably fewer people around it. Only two girls, in fact, who both wore dark-blue hoodies with the characters for 'Kaijo Rugby' plastered on the front.

The girl on the right, who had dark hair and darker eyes, looked Mitsuru up and down. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as if she smelled something foul - not that Mitsuru blamed her. Her mother had awakened the girl fifteen minutes before she had to leave that morning. The rush to get ready left her with a wrinkled uniform and only half of her schoolbooks.

Mitsuru turned to the brown-haired girl next to 'Miss Judgmental' and noticed that her chocolate eyes held a friendly air than the girl next to her.

"This is girls' rugby, right?" Mitsuru asked as she grabbed the pen for the sign-up sheet.

The girl gave a wry grin, her brown eyes twinkling, "I sure hope so. Otherwise, we'd have a pretty bad case of false advertising on our hands," she chuckled under her breath whilst the girl next to her rolled her eyes.

Mitsuru quirked an eyebrow at the girl's response, but allowed an amused smile to grace her face anyway.

"So I just sign here?" she indicated to the sheet with the pen.

The girl nodded, "That would be great, thanks."

Mitsuru leant her weight onto the table and held the pen above the white paper. Her steel-blue eyes scanned down the sheet until she found an empty slot to write"Kasamatsu Mitsuru".

Upon pushing herself away from the table and looking at her name, she winced at her sloppy, near indiscernible characters; handwriting wasn't one of her strong points, especially when it came to writing in Kanji.

As the chocolate-eyed girl looked down at the paper, her face lit up.

"Wait a minute. Are you Yukio-kun's sister?" she blurted out, excitement lacing her voice.

Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Mitsuru raised her eyebrows, "Probably, if we're thinking about the same person. Short, black hair? Blue eyes? Can't talk to a girl to save his life?"

The girl squealed at such a high pitch, Mitsuru swore her ears bled.

"Awww, that's adorable. I didn't know Yukio-kun had a baby sister. You must be a first year too. That's so _cute_!"

Mitsuru scrunched up her nose, "I'm sure it is?"

"Yukio-kun is so adorable," the girl continued to coo, bringing her hands to the sides of her face. "You two have the same eye colour, that blueish-silvery colour thing going on, yeah? You know, I've never met any of Yukio-kun's family."

"And I've never met someone _so_ non-patronizing," Mitsuru drawled with a wry smile.

The brown-haired girl opened her mouth to reply, but the girl next to her, who lifted her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose, interrupted her.

"For the love of God, Amari-senpai, _shut up_ ," she growled, shifting her gaze to glare at the chocolate-eyed girl.

Amari pouted, "Awww, Ima-chan, don't be so stuffy!" she said as the teen beside her put her glasses back on. "I was just greeting the first year. Her brother and I know each other quite well, after all."

 _Ah_ \- so she was one of those girls who _knew_ that Yukio couldn't handle girls, yet still forced a conversation out of him. Though it was frustratingly amusing to watch Yukio try to talk to the opposite gender, to talk to him despite knowing this was a low blow.

Ima folded her arms across her chest. "We aren't here to make small talk, we're here to promote girls' rugby, so keep your mouth shut if it's not about the sport, _got it?_ "

Ima turned to Mitsuru, eyeing her with a hard stare.

"My name is Hironaka Ima. I'm the captain of the girl's rugby team this year," she introduced as she reached over to the stack of flyers beside her. She slid one over to Mitsuru. "Here is the basic information should you want to join. Trials will be held net Saturday and I would advise that you attend if you want to get into a team above fifth string."

' _Fifth string?_ _How many strings did this sport have?'_ Mitsuru raised her eyebrows as she read over the flyer. The teen knew there would've been a reasonable amount of girl rugby players going to Kaijo, but to have five teams, you needed seventy-five players. _At least_.

"Mmm," Amari piped in, "and from what I remember, the second string usually plays on Fridays. You look like you would be good enough for the second string, so make sure you clear your schedule for that, 'kay?"

Mitsuru cocked her head to the side, "What about the first string? When are those games?"

Amari snorted, "You have to be good to get into the first string in freshman year, and I mean _really_ _good_."

"Yes," Ima agreed. "It is unlikely you will get in this year."

Amari sent the black-haired girl a sly grin. "It's not impossible, though."

Ignoring the sharp glare she received in return, the chestnut-haired girl looked conspicuously from side to side as she leant closer to Mitsuru.

"You know," Amari stage-whispered, "there's no need to give up on getting into the first team. The only reason this grump here," she indicated to Ima with her head, "got to be captain was because no one else could actually be bothered."

"Hey!" the said captain barked. "That's not I quote - that my leadership skills are of someone older than my age."

"Oh Ima-chan, you're too modest," Amari simpered, cupping her chin in her hand. "Do you think that you would've wanted to be captain if Coach had said 'Ima, no one else wants the job so please take it'?"

Mitsuru watched as the two started to bicker. Well, bicker was a subjective word for it. Ima was the only one who took the argument seriously, with her teammate waving off her words with an empty smile. The blue-eyed teen rolled her eyes. If she wanted to hear pointless arguments, she would've stayed at home.

"I'm going to head off," Mitsuru raised her voice above the two.

Amari turned in surprise, "Really? Well," she gave the freshman a radiant smile, "I'll see you at trials then, Kasamatsu-san."

Mitsuru returned the smile with one of her own, "I would hope so. Otherwise, you'd have a pretty bad case of false advertising on your hand."

"Um… excuse me…"

Mitsuru's heart jumped to her throat as she bit back a frightened squeal. She whirled around to face the person who appeared behind her.

"Wheredidyoucomefrom?" Mitsuru blurted, her words tumbling from her mouth in a rush of barely-distinguishable syllables.

"I've been waiting for a while," the person replied and Mitsuru had to strain to hear her voice. "You looked like you knew each other so I didn't want to interrupt. Um... is it over now?"

Mitsuru went to open her mouth, but Ima cut her off.

"Yes. Yes, it is," she gave the tanned freshman a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Kasamatsu-san. I _truly_ look forward to seeing you at trials."

'... _do I detect some sarcasm there?'_ Mitsuru considered, her eyebrows raised. With a smile that looked more like a grimace, the freshman waved at them and walked away from the table.

As she once again merged into the crowd, a wave of exhaustion hit her like a truck. She'd wondered when the tiredness would finally kick in, and it appeared she would have to wonder no more. Mitsuru's head was beginning to feel too heavy for her neck and she had to move her hands to hold onto it in order keep it up straight.

' _Well shit_ ,' Mitsuru realised with a dawning horror, ' _and school hasn't even started yet_.'

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Thak you o so much for readig this. Ireally appreciate t

R&R for more amazing cntent ;D


	2. Chapter 2

Yo, yo, yo my hoes. Thanks fore reading this far. I realkly apreciate it

Please read this. Tbha nks

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Chapter twoo

.

By me

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Praise and admiration were commonplace when discussing Kaijou High School. After all, success in sports was a constant achievement. A full assortment of gyms, tracks, and fields filled the school's grounds, stretching out further than the eye could see.

Kaijou's trophies on full display.

The public school - and Kaijou _was_ a public school, contrary to the plaque ingrained on the entrance- had marvellous, exquisite, _sensational_ sporting accommodations. With all the amazing results the school got at competitions, and the sheer number of athletes attending, something _had_ to give.

Mitsuru sat in her new homeroom, fidgeting in her seat. Her butt was still sore from entrance ceremony. It was a long, tedious procedure that did nothing but get several, annoying songs in her head that she fought valiantly to repress.

Mitsuru cupped her head as her nails, bitten to the quick, drummed a rhythm on the ink-stained desk. The sun splayed in from the window beside her, illuminating her desk with a blinding light.

Blinking the dark spots from her eyes, the teenager shifted her gaze to the wall.

There wasn't even an ounce of brightness in the room. The windows were cracked and dirty and posters, printed in black-and-white, hung along the grimy, grey wall. Some could say that said posters' lack of colour added to the room's... grungy aesthetic, but the true reason was really just the school being too cheap to print anything with coloured ink. Yukio had told her that little tidbit of information and Mitsuru trusted the guy who had the school's staff sucking on his dick. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Or maybe not. After all, who knew what her brother got up to in those 'music lessons'?

In all fairness, Mitsuru was a _tad_ biased against her homeroom. Her views on it were subjective, to put it lightly. Suffice to say, the teen despised it in every way, shape, and form, having never had a good experience with any of the homeroom teachers she'd had. There was always at least one thing about them that grated her nerves.

So - with all her previous experiences and traumas - she already knew how Sarai-san was going to act the moment she stepped into the room. Hell, the moment she saw the woman's prissy name on her timetable.

 _Never judge a book by its cover._ That was a lesson pounded into the girl head since elementary school. _It shouldn't matter the look of one's appearance, but the contents of their heart._ But it was impossible not to judge when you could find the whole story written, well, solely _on_ the cover.

A story that told of a short and miserable tale.

Sarai-san wore her superiority like a cloak, with a pompous attitude rolled off her in thick waves. Her heels clacked obnoxiously as she paced to her desk, her shoes elevated so high that she almost reached a normal height. The makeup caked on the woman's face was an obvious attempt to look younger, but all it did was accentuate the wrinkles carved into her skin. She had pulled her hair into a bun so tight, her forehead strained with the tension. Mitsuru winced at the sight and fingered her own locks. Tying her thick hair into a high ponytail was never an option.

But other than the excessive amounts of makeup and the woman's tortured hair, the most prominent aspect of Sarai-san was her aura. The teacher's demeanour screamed one thing: 'Passive-aggressive'. If there was one thing that got on Mitsuru's nerves - that put its shoe down and _squashed_ them - it was passive-aggressiveness.

Sarai-san's desk was right in front of Mitsuru, so she was lucky enough to experience the brunt of her perfume. Putting a hand over her nose and faking a cough, the teen sent a longing glance behind her.

For all her schooling years, Mitsuru had planted her butt at the back of the class. It offered solitude, while the front of the class was like a battlefield, exposed and terrifying.

But her mother had demanded that Mitsuru sat right at the front of the class. Mitsuru thought about ignoring her mother's words and sitting wherever she wanted, but she decided she'd humour the woman.

For now, at least.

"Attention class!" Sarai-san's grating voice echoed across the room and bounced against Mitsuru's head. The freshman barely refrained from covering her ears as Sarai-san held up a clipboard and cleared her throat. "I am Sarai-sensei, and I will be your homeroom teacher for this year. I'm going to call attendance now, so pay attention and raise your hand when you hear your name. Arita Tadakuni..."

Mitsuru tuned the teacher out as she turned to face the cracked window.

The horrible homeroom hole was at the top of one of the buildings near the back of the school and although the Mitsuru swore mould grew in the top corners of the room, the view of the city was _stunning_.

Buildings rocketed from the ground, their mirrored glass gleaming rainbows in the pale, spring sun. Painted in the distance were tiny hills, and if she squinted, she could pinpoint the location of the Tama River. Her steel-blue eyes flicked over the scenery in wonder, before something caught her attention. Mitsuru focused her gaze to where a couple of figures stood on the roof of the main gymnasium.

' _Wait, what_?'

The teen adjusted herself on her seat and zoned in on the figures. She didn't know what was going on up there, nor did she particularly care. She was more interested in how they managed to climb onto the roof of the gym.

Mitsuru had attended a great number of Yukio's basketball practices. Thus she could say she knew Kaijou's first gym like the back of her hand. The girl had sprinted up all the stairs, opened all the doors and searched every nook and cranny of that place. There had _never_ been even a hint of a way to access the roof.

' _So, how did they get up there?'_ Mitsuru's gaze carded over the building. ' _Did they climb a wall or something_?'

"Kasamatsu Mitsuru?" Sarai-san called out in the distance.

"Present," the teen replied absently, too focused on the roof to spare a glance at the teacher.

' _Is there a ladder of some kind_?' Intrigue kindled in Mitsuru's eyes as she pondered the thought. ' _They could've installed something during the winter, or-'_

"Kasamatsu-san!" Sarai-san's sharp voice cut across her train of thoughts and brought the girl back to reality. Blinking, Mitsuru turned her head to the teacher, who looked down at her with a disapproving scowl. Sparks of amusement flickered around the classroom behind her.

"I would appreciate," the teacher hissed through her teeth, "if you would face me when I talk to you. You do know that it is common courtesy to look at someone when they speak, yes?"

Mitsuru raised a bushy brow, "...yes."

Sarai-san clicked her tongue, "I would appreciate if you would please speak loudly and clearly when you are addressing me, Kasamatsu-san."

' _What the hell is this woman's problem_?' The girl wasn't sure if she was happy or annoyed her guess of Sarai-san's passive-aggressive personality was correct.

What was with teachers and their need to hold their 'superiority' over students? Just because her life was sad and miserable, didn't mean anybody else's needed to be.

"Yes _Sarai-san_ ," Mitsuru said _loudly_ and _clearly_.

The woman nodded her head, "Very good, Kasamatsu-san. It's always good to be polite to others." The smug satisfaction that leaked into the teacher's tone caused Mitsuru to grit her teeth. Sarai-san stared at the girl a few seconds longer, before she drew her gaze back to the role. "Now, shall we continue? Is Kise Ryouta here?"

Silence engulfed the room.

Mitsuru joined the rest of the class and twisted in her chair, looking for the missing person. A wave of mutterings arose from the quiet.

"Wait, did she say Kise Ryouta?"

" _The_ Kise Ryouta?"

"Is Kise Ryouta in this class?"

"Does Kise-san go to Kaijou?"

Mitsuru raised an eyebrow, ' _Is this 'Kise Ryouta' guy some kind of serial killer_?'

Sarai-san pursed her lips, her gaze covering the class, "Is Kise Ryouta here? No?" She wrote something down on her clipboard. Her pen made a loud scratching noise as she tutted. "Not a good start to be absent on the first day, mm."

The classroom door swung open right after the teacher's words. The whole class' attention turned to it simultaneously, as if they were all connected to a machine. There was a dramatic pause, then in stepped a teenage boy who you could describe with one word:

Beautiful.

He was what young-adult authors imagined when writing their male love-interest. Golden hair shone against the dingy light of the classroom and honey-coloured eyes pinned onlookers with an aloof gaze. Pink bow lips formed a nonchalant line as their owner towered into the room.

"You're late," Sarai-san sneered, not looking up from her clipboard. "Do you have any excuse, or was your tardiness due to laziness?"

The boy pouted, stepping closer to the teacher. His demeanour changed in an instant, from apathetic to whiney.

"Waaah, I'm sorry sensei," he groused, running a hand through his glossy hair. "I had a photoshoot this morning - I'm a model, you see - and the traffic from Tokyo to Kawasaki was absolutely terrible. Now I see that I should've arrived sooner. It's never good to keep a pretty lady waiting, after all." He winked, his mouth quirking up to match his flirtatious tone.

Mitsuru retched at the horrendous sight and all her appreciative thoughts hurtled out the window. ' _Surely Sarai-san won't be dumb enough to fall for that cheap tactic?'_

The girl scoffed. Whoever this boy was, he needed to learn how to bullshit excuses. It was a lost art, sadly.

But to the girl's surprise, a blush dusted the Sarai-san's cheeks the moment she saw his face.

"W-well, um, that's fine-" Was that a stutter Mitsuru detected? "Take a seat, Kise-kun, and I'll mark you present."

' _Note to self' -_ Mitsuru's eyes were wide as she watched the scene - ' _Sarai-san is susceptible to condescending flattery. And a pretty face_.'

Mitsuru had to give that Kise guy some credit as she watched him swagger to the back of the class. That was a flawless performance, one that even she wouldn't be able to pull off.

Not that the teen would want to. Flirting with old people was… not something she was willing to do.

' _Looking like a chiselled sex god would help though.'_ Mitsuru shook her head and cursed her parents for denying her any attractive genes. ' _They have enough to spare, the selfish assholes_.'

Screeching erupted in the back of the class. Dragged out of her thoughts, Mitsuru covered her ears at the high pitch

"Kise-san, please sit with me!"

"Kise-san! Over here!"

"I love you, Kise-san!"

"Your modelling work is amazing, Kise-san! Please marry me!"

Mitsuru rubbed her temples in an attempt to will away an inevitable headache. She twisted in her chair to glower at the girls in the back.

The sight behind her was… concerning.

A plethora of girls latched onto Kise's limbs, attempting to pull the tall boy one way or another. They were all oblivious to the almost pained expression on the Kise's face as they squealed and yelled.

It was such a bizarre sight - the kind you'd only see in cheesy movies - that Mitsuru barely suppressed a chuckle. These girls hadn't seen or read any romantic tales, it appeared. It didn't take a genius to know it wasn't the fangirls who got the boy, but the girl next door. Or the attractive nerd. Or the social outcast. Or, to be honest, anyone other than the rabid fangirl and the bitchy cheerleader.

The screaming and squealing got louder, with Kise Ryouta trying to pacify the excited teenagers.

"Calm down ladies," the boy cooed as he attempted to pull himself away. He pointed to a table in the midst of the girls. "How about I sit at this desk here, so I can keep all you _lovely women_ close to me."

' _Is that sarcasm I hear,'_ Mitsuru marvelled, her eyebrows raised above her hairline.

Snickering under her breath, she turned back to Sarai-san, who wore her default expression of sucking a lemon.

"I would appreciate if you ladies would please be quiet!" she shouted, her arms crossed as she glowered at the class. "I am trying to do the attendance here, and your constant rabbiting is not helping."

Sarai-san called out the rest of the names. Her voice pierced through the classroom and quickly caused the chattering in the back to die down; the girls must have at least _some_ common sense.

"Okay class," she concluded, placing her clipboard on her desk and stalking towards the whiteboard. "First of all, we will introduce your class presidents."

Mitsuru groaned, her body leaning back against her chair as she relaxed in her seat.

She really hated homeroom.

* * *

 _Bang_!

Jolting in fright, Mitsuru sprung up from her desk.

The teen struggled to open her bleary eyes as Sarai-san picked up the books she had callously dumped on her desk. Mind fuzzy, Mitsuru sent the teacher a half-hearted glare.

"What?" she growled in a husky voice as she wiped the slobber from around her mouth.

Sarai-san plopped in the chair behind her desk.

"I would appreciate if you didn't sleep in my class, Kasamatsu-san," she remarked with narrowed eyes. "I'll let you off today since it's the first day of school, but should I find you taking a nap in my class again it will be an automatic detention. I also do not allow students to stay in homeroom during the break, so I would appreciate it if you went somewhere else."

"Huh?" Brow wrinkled, Mitsuru looked behind her. The gritty light shone against the empty chairs in the classroom. Everyone was gone.

The tanned teen turned back to Sarai-san, disbelief written in her wide eyes.

The teacher sighed, "Yes, there is no one here. Everyone else left for Morning Recess five minutes ago."

"… I see."

Sarai-san shook her head, tapping her pen on her desk, "I would advise that you try to get a good night's sleep tonight and stop staying up until the small hours of the morning." Mitsuru face grew expressionless as Sarai-san continued. "I would hope you knew that school is not something you can take lightly. What time _did_ you go to bed last night? Three AM? Four AM? Did you even go to sleep? Or did you-"

"Nine," Mitsuru stated as she pushed her chair back and stood up. "I went to bed at nine."

The woman arched a thin brow, "I'm sure you did, but please, next time you go to bed at nine, make sure to go to sleep at nine too."

Mitsuru sent the woman a blank look, "I'll try."

Sarai-san returned it with a hard stare, before looking back down at her desk, "I do hope so. Have a good interval, Kasamatsu-san."

The dismissal was clear. The teen bowed her head, and then turned around, dragging her feet to the door.

As she was about to leave the classroom, a hint of blue on the ground caught her attention. Blinking the haze from her eyes, Mitsuru turned back around to get a better look at it. Sure enough, someone's blue student diary lay on the ground near the back tables.

Her curiosity taking the better of her, Mitsuru half-walked and half-stumbled to the back of the class. She crouched above the diary, picked it up, and brought it close to her eyes to read the name on the front.

"Kise Ryouta," the girl muttered under her breath.

Mitsuru moved her thumb over his beautifully aesthetic kanji, biting back the stab of jealousy that erupted inside her.

' _Why does this guy have such neat handwriting_?' She breathed a heavy sigh, more dramatic than strictly necessary.

Mitsuru thought about what she would do with the diary. She _should_ burn it. After all, no one used the student diaries so she would be doing Kise a favour. _Or_ she could be a good person and give it back to him at lunchtime. It shouldn't be too hard a task. Then again, she could leave it at the desk for him to pick up next class. But, what if one of those crazy girls got there before him? Would they give it back?

Mitsuru bit her lip, unsure of what to do.

"Do you need something, Kasamatsu-san?"

The teen perked up to see Sarai-san looking at her, her eyes sharp. Mitsuru opened to mouth reply 'no', but caught herself.

The girl gave Sarai-san a long stare. She could tell the teacher about _it_ now. Three words, that'd be all it would take. Three simple words. Mitsuru opened her mouth again, but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Should she tell Sarai-san? There was no true harm in it, was there? Mitsuru shifted from one foot to the other.

"Kasamatsu-san?"

"No," Mitsuru finally said. "I'm fine."

The girl shoved the diary in her bag and walked out of the classroom.

* * *

' _If I was a pretty, blonde teenager, where would I hide?'_

Mitsuru stalked through the hallways, her white shoes clumping on the ground.

Blond hair wasn't exactly common in Japan, so it should stick out amongst the common browns and blacks. At least, that was what the teenager had thought. Unfortunately, she could not find the esteemed Kise Ryouta.

Mitsuru jumped down one of the many staircases at Kaijou. She reached the landing and looked left and right, unclear of where she was and where she should go.

The grainy map she held was useless. The school's layout was a mangled, confusing mess that made no logical sense and was devilishly complicated to navigate through. Seriously, what kind of school put the ruckus room and the library together?

Kaijou did, apparently.

The teen took the right, meandering into a random, open space. Well, it wasn't exactly open as the site was full to the brim with people. Masses of students spilt through a large door at the other side of the room. Curious, Mitsuru paced after them. A notice hung above the door she passed though, a small metal plaque that read 'Cafeteria'. If Kise would be anywhere, it would be in there.

Hopefully.

As Mitsuru stepped into the cafeteria, a myriad of unwelcome smells hit her nose. The teen bit back a gag as she hunted through the crowd, breezing past the already-filled tables.

No hint of yellow.

Mitsuru couldn't hear herself think in the loud place. She was in no way claustrophobic, but the air in the Cafeteria seemed to squash her in.

The teenager glanced at some of the dishes served at the lunch bar. The sight made her relieved she packed her own lunch today.

Normally, Mitsuru would've bought her lunch from this place but she needed to save as much money as she could. So, the teen had to suffer through awful, pre-packed lunches. Though, it was better that than whatever that grey gloop was.

Turning her attention back to the general crowd, Mitsuru concluded that Kise wasn't there. As she bit back an edge of irritation, the teen heard two girls squeal next to her.

"Kyaah! I heard Kise-san's over at the far corner table!"

"Really? Let's go see him!"

' _Well, that was convenient_.' Mitsuru's eyes followed the girls' path, which concluded at a loud crowd in the corner.

Without a moment's hesitation, Mitsuru stalked over to the base of it and plunged into the mob.

As the tanned girl edged through, the seething mass of people threatened to push her down on her ass. She managed to remain standing and continue to fight herself through. Lines of people threatening to shove her down was nothing new.

"Wait your turn, bitch," someone snarled in her ear as she passed them.

Mitsuru ignored the person and continued to ram her way to the front.

After many trying minutes, the freshman finally broke clear of the crowd and came face-to-face with Kise. Well, more like face-to-back-of-head.

Kise sat at the table, surrounded by not only the crowd but a cluster of girls who managed to snag a seat next to him. Some of them sat upright in their seats, while others fought to the death for a place at a table.

With all the craziness surrounding Kise, Mitsuru almost felt sorry for the poor guy.

"Hey, Kise?" she called, rolling her bag off her shoulder to take the diary out. She gauged his reaction.

He hadn't heard her.

"Oi! Kise!"

Still no answer.

She reached over and shook his shoulder. The model's attention snapped to her and he gave a lacklustre smile that showed off his perfect, white teeth.

"Oh, hi there," he perked, a childish tilt to his tone.

Mitsuru matched his smile with one of her own, "You left your student diary in homeroom, so I'm here to return it to you." She held out the blue book.

The boy looked at her, down at the book, then back to her, the superficial smile still on his face. One of the girls to the side of him grabbed his arm to pull him away, but Mitsuru jabbed, a tad harshly, at his arm again to get his attention back. She ignored the ugly scowl the girl gave her as she stared at Kise.

"I have your diary! You left it in the classroom!" Mitsuru shouted this time, hoping he would hear her voice over the bustling crowd behind her.

Kise's gaze wandered to the wall, obviously not hearing at her as he absently rubbed his arm. Mitsuru cursed at the noise in the Cafeteria, which buzzed through the air like a swarm of bugs.

"Oi!" she waved her hands in front of the boy's face. His honey eyes moved back to Mitsuru's. "You," she shoved his book into his chest, "left your student diary in the homeroom."

The beautiful teenager looked down at the diary for a few seconds, before his perfectly-angled eyebrows raised in understanding. He pulled a black marker from the pocket of his grey pants and took the book from her hands.

' _Finally_.' Mitsuru sighed as she turned around, relieved that she could finally get out of there. Big crowds were not one of her favourite things.

The tanned girl was about to walk away when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Kise, who… handed back his student diary.

Mitsuru quirked an eyebrow, "Uhhh, no. That's-"

The model bowed his head, "Thank you for your support," he chimed, his lips curved into a radiant smile. Kise pushed the diary back into her hands and let go, forcing the girl to grab it. "I'm starring on the front cover of the next Zunon Boy collection, so if you would buy it then the company, and myself, would really appreciate it."

Mitsuru raised a brow, an incredulous glint in her eye. She opened her mouth once again, but screams and shouts cut her off.

"Kise-san, can I get an autograph too?"

"What about me, Kise-san?"

"Marry me, Kise-kun!"

The crowd seemed to gain energy, bulging behind Mitsuru and pushing her into the table. The monster pulsed towards Kise, its multiple hands grabbing at any and every part of him. A slightly pained look came upon the model's face and she almost felt a twinge of pity for him. The look was gone the next instant, as if it hadn't appeared, and he stood to address the crowd, armed with his black marker.

The crowd was getting out of control, like a stampede of animals. Gritting her teeth, Mitsuru broke through the surface and clawed her way back into the cafeteria. She hurried out the door, and then took a gulp of fresh air.

Regaining her composure, she walked outside, squinting her eyes as the sun reflected off the dewy path. A breeze ruffled through Mitsuru's uniform, sending a shiver up her spine.

The girl's steel-blue eyes shifted down to the diary and noticed something that she hadn't seen before. Written on the front of the blue book, in an obnoxious, black marker, was a certain someone's loopy autograph.

Mitsuru blinked, then rubbed her eyes to check if she was imagining it. She stared in disbelief at the curvy and delicate signature.

Eyes curved at the corners, she felt her lips twitched once, twice, before she had to restrain herself from laughing at the sight.

* * *

Time hated her.

Mitsuru swore that some god-like being had stretched the day to unnatural lengths because time could not go that slow naturally. Each of the classes droned on and on with no end in sight.

She had not managed to give Kise back his book, nor did she have any intention to try.

The teenager trotted down the street to her house. A train puttered in the distance and default noises of a city filled the air; the bustling conversations, the cars' honking and the sighs of relief at another day finished.

Mitsuru turned left into a side alley and proceeded to walk up the rickety, metal stairs to the side door of her home. She unlocked the door and stepped onto the wooden surface of the entrance.

Mitsuru walked up to her room and slammed her door open.

To say the teen's room was a pigsty would be an understatement. Columns of clothes sprouted from the ground and a mass of random junk lay across every elevated surface of her room. A pathway cut through the clutter, sprouting off to her bed, her chest of drawers and her window.

Mitsuru let off a loud, almost sexual groan as she chucked her bag across the room and dived onto her hard mattress. She grabbed her duvet and rolled herself up like a human caterpillar, letting the delicious material engulf her.

Someone rapped on the teen's door, breaking her out of her relaxation mode. Mitsuru looked up to see Yukio leaning on her doorway.

"Why hello there Yukio," she greeted, propping herself up. "Do you have a reason for stepping foot in my domain?"

Yukio shook his head, "Not especially. Just wanted to ask how your day was." He looked around her bedroom, his nose wrinkled in distaste. "Your 'domain's' a fucking mess, by the way. You need to fix your hoarding problem."

Mitsuru narrowed her eyes, "I prefer to use the term 'organized chaos' when describing my room. And I'm not a hoarder, I'm a collector. There's a difference."

"You keep telling yourself that, Mitsuru. I'm sure you'll convince someone."

The teenager raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the small, amused smile on her brother's face.

When the siblings were together, you could spot the similarities in an instance. They shared the same, intense eyes; steel-blue with a deep set that shadowed into a permanent glare. Both pairs were overhung by bushy brows - Yukio's plucked and stylised and Mitsuru's a duo of hairy caterpillars resting on her forehead.

They held themselves high and mighty, supported by a strong look and stubborn legs. A sharp jawline cut out of their skin, adding to their already intimidating look.

This was where the similarities drifted apart. While Yukio's black hair lay delicately on his head, she wore thick and heavy locks. The dark mass gushed past her shoulders and hung in a matted mess down her back. Her brother's perky nose contrasted Mitsuru's, which jutted out from her face in a hooked fashion, dented to the right from a badly healed injury.

"You know," she wriggled an arm out of her duvet to pick up one of the stones from her bedside table, "when you said Kaijou had no education to speak of, I was expecting something more… well…"

The boy arched an eyebrow, "You didn't believe me, did you?" Mitsuru shook her head and he sighed. "There's a reason the school's informal motto is-"

"'No one comes here for the education', I know _that_. I just didn't realise said education would be this bad."

"You'll get used to it," Yukio's gaze hardened, "but you will need to do lots of study. You'll barely pass if you rely on their teaching."

"Good to know," she drawled, throwing her small rock to herself. "I'm so glad I have to go to Kaijou. Because I love sports so much that I want to give a big 'screw you' to my education."

Yukio rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. With a sigh, Mitsuru put the rock back and turned to fully face her brother.

"You asked how my day was," Mitsuru stated, rubbing her jaw. "My day was alright, I guess. My homeroom teacher's awful, which is a slight bummer."

"Who is it? Hoga-sensei?"

"Sarai-san."

"That's understandable. Sarai-sensei's good if you're not a little shit," Yukio ignored his sister's protest at his words as he continued. "She's definitely not the best, but she's been at the school long enough that she knows the way with students."

"Yes, because passive-aggressiveness is _always_ a good skill," Mitsuru's brow knitted into a frown. "It's weird though. She kicked me out of homeroom. What kind of teachers kick students out of homerooms"

"Teachers at Kaijou do."

"And there's a cafeteria. Did I accidentally step into a portal and travel to America?"

"Kaijou has a cafeteria because it is a sports orientated school," Yukio explained, "and either they have a cafeteria or the students go to wherever the hell they want. Call it damage control, if you may."

"How do you even know this. Do you get a booklet that has all the little quirks in Kaijou written in it."

"No, I've just attended the school for two years." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I have to email the coach and help him organise basketball trials."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot you were captain. I don't think I ever congratulated you for that." She paused. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Hmm, thanks," he replied absently. Yukio was about to leave the doorway, but stopped and turned back to her. "Oh, and by the way, it's 'sensei', not 'san'."

"Pardon?"

"You need to call her Sarai-sensei, not Sarai-san." He left the doorway, yelling down the hall, "Geez, Mitsuru! You've lived here for six years now! How do you keep fucking up the honorifics?"

"Guess what, Yukio!" she shouted back. "I'm a flawed human being with a flawed human intelligence! There's no need to judge me!"

* * *

Thnaks yo. i really aprecoiate

Make sure to r&R

tHNS

XOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO


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